Wrong Number
by tuuli-p
Summary: It wasn't strange for Pickles to call people at stupid hours of the night, raging drunk. It was a little more strange when he called the wrong number.


She never got calls from her estranged son. Molly wasn't even entirely sure that he had her number until that night he called her, raging on in an alcoholic haze.

Molly honestly had no intention of answering the phone. It was late in the night, so she had an excuse to dodge her disgusting spawn. The only reason for her answering was an expected apology from Pickles, as he owed Seth one over a petty argument that she of course, blew out of proportion. With this is mind, she had a score to settle and motivation to take this call. "Hello, Pickles?"

Pickles's words were slurred together. It was almost impossible to discern what he was saying. "Heeyyyyyyyy babe. What're ya warrrinnng?"

In shock, the aged woman didn't answer for a few moments. Her lips parted, prepared to scream out at him. But before any malice escaped her he managed to further make a fool of himself.

"I haveee... I have a lot of stuff! Cause I'm rich... I'm rich! You should come oveerrrrrrr babe." He snorted through the phone. Molly cringed, he sounded absolutely disgusting. He was always her least favorite child for sure, but her hatred of him only grew when he became an alcoholic.

She had spent most of her life married to an alcoholic, and she was still stuck with the fucker. Molly and Calvert were married at a young age, being delusional high school sweethearts. She was eighteen and barely graduated, and he was nineteen and scarcely out of high school himself. The honeymoon phase was a breeze, filled with good sex and fun vacations. The good sex ended with Calvert's eventual love of alcohol, and the fun vacations ended with her eldest son, Pickles.

Pickles ended up marking the end of all of her happiness. It wasn't just the responsibility of a kid that ruined it, it was the fact that he even grew up to symbolize the end of happiness when he started drinking. His existence was already a damage to her life and his drinking was just a reminder. She knew she wasn't supposed to hate her own child, and that only made it worse. It made Molly feel guilty, and to cope with her guilt she blamed Pickles for every unrelated problem after that. It was a vicious cycle that he could never win over.

The dutiful old woman huffed through the phone, not amused by his games. "Pickles, don't be saying such atrocious things to yer mother! You have no reason to be calling this late unless you wanna apologize to Sethy!"

Her words seem to fly right over his head. "C'monnnnnnnn Sofiaaaaaa. I payed you reallllllly good last time! Just come overrrrrr."

Great, so her son was trying to call a hooker instead of his own mother. The thought disgusted her. Best drummer on the entire planet and he couldn't even find a woman to marry, still paying working girls out for sex. She wasn't surprised though, no decent woman would dare settle for that heathen.

"Pickles, this isn't funny. Go to bed!" Molly commanded, tapping her fake nails on the wall next to their wall phone. Despite being in the means to afford a cellphone, Molly preferred the technology she was used to and kept a wall phone, cord and all.

Harsh laughter cracked through, he was clearly amused by that statement. "Hahah... Hehe... Ya know, I don't mind if ya call me daddy but I'm not really into calling you mammy..."

"Pickles!" She gritted her teeth, disturbed by her new knowledge of what her son was into, "That's more than just inappropriate to say to your own mother! What the hell is wrong with you?"

There was a few moments in which Molly was not given a response. All that could be heard through the phone was a distant grotesque wretch-like sound. It could easily be assumed that this sound was Pickles throwing up. Her upper lip curled in her adversity to the situation, it was if her son was in front of her throwing up. What a truly horrific thought...

After these moments passed, his voice came back up on the phone.

"You aren't my mother! Quit playing that stupid game, you know I hate that bitch. Just git over here and fuck me and maybeeeee I'll forgive you for bringing her up."

His mood had clearly soured after his barf festival. But it was the be expected, no one is exactly thrilled to throw up everywhere. Though she assumed he would be used to it by now, seeing as how he was the one who put himself through such atrocities on a daily basis.

Molly had no more to say to him. Of course she could go about their normal routine of her screaming to him about what a disappointment he was. There was always that golden opportunity to remind him that no matter how rich he was now, she still saw him as scum. The situation made it particularly easy as well, seeing as how he was desperate to have some mere hooker come over and validate his petty emotions. Molly didn't need to insult him at this point, he was ruined enough that she didn't need to remind him of what a failure he was.

"Good luck with that Pickles. Call me when you're sober to apologize for this, and don't forget to apologize to Sethy."

And with that, Molly hung up the phone on the wall and left to sleep on the couch. It was late in the night already, and that excruciating conversation only furthered her exhaustion.

Pickles stared at the ended call screen on his phone, blinking a few times. It was hard to read when he was drunk. The letters were there, and his eyes could see them, but he didn't really understand them. He shrugged, not fully comprehending quite yet that he had called his mother instead of a hooker. And in the end- it didn't even matter. He'd take another shot and the memory wouldn't even be able to reach him by the time morning came.

With that in mind, he carelessly dialed another number.


End file.
